


Land of Cyberterrors and Misery

by spasticVocalist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, HIC is a bitch that hates albinos for some reason, Humanstuck, M/M, john is a precious depressed child, john was used as some sort of experiment, johns last name is crocker for the beginning of this because of reasons, kar is too but thats not really new, kks an albino, vaguely hunger games-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spasticVocalist/pseuds/spasticVocalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is John Egbert, and you can't remember the first few years of your life. That might have something to do with the black, oil-like blood running through your veins or your seeming immortality and the powers that come with it. </p><p>Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are wanted for being a mutant. Everything is stupid. Especially the guards who capture you. The next thing you know, you're in the middle of a forest that seems to never end. This is an illusion. You are wearing a tight body suit. Oh, and running for your life from a malevolent floaty black blob that is trying to kill you. This is obviously not the best time to trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do the prologue thing.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so like i know this chapter is short but its the prologue so
> 
> and i havent given up on my wanna be life alert fic i swear  
> i just started writing this to get some creative juices flowing  
>  ~~which has yet to work~~

"Your Highness, you might want to see this…" A man standing outside a door says nervously. 

"What is it now, ya shrimp? Can't ya sea I'm tryin'a get some beauty sleep in 'ere?" Comes a female voice from behind the door. 

"W-well, you see, milady, Subject 413 is moving again…" The man pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a shaky finger. 

"Oh, is that right? Well, good for 'im. 'E's been reel glum lately an' it's been makin' me feel kinda bad. An' I don't like feelin' bad. It's bad for the complexion, ya know?"

"I-I, uh, y-yes, but..." The man glances around anxiously before leaning in close to the door, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. "But he's helping one of the competitors," he whispers loudly.

"Is 'e now? I thought 'e'd gi-fin up on that nonsense."

The man yelps and leaps backward as the door opens, revealing a tall, tan woman with fucha eyes and extremely long, black hair that reaches the floor. She wears a full-body black and fucha (the same shade as her eyes) diving suit, swimming goggles, and a shit-ton of gold jewelry.

Her face contorts as she grins menacingly. "We'll have ta fix that then, won't we?"


	2. Be the inhuman boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shit a long chapter what

Your name is John Crocker, and you wonder why you're still alive. 

Every two years, you are forced to either kill, or be killed. 

Or at least that's what she told you when she brought you here.

But by now you know that you can't really die. Anything that would kill a normal person is nothing but a painful, non-permanent death to you, that really only serves to slightly inconvenience you and piss you off a bit.

She also told you that you wouldn't be here long. 

What's it been now? Thirteen years?

Clearly, she isn't the most trustworthy person. 

So, you've decided to give up. You can't kill anyone else. 

Even though she said that this was only a video-game-type-simulation, and that they wouldn't actually die, you are almost certain that that was a lie, too. 

Of course, there are the Cyberterrors, which are these solidified-holographic-robot-monster-things that float and sort of teleport when they "die". But the teenagers that appear once every sweep – that's what you like to call the two-year periods – all have blood. And they can walk, and talk, and _die_.

You can't take it anymore. 

So now, here you sit, hugging your legs to your chest, chin on your knees, and your back against a root that juts out of the ground, creating a small arc that's not quite tall enough for someone to fit under, yet big enough to trip anyone not paying attention to where they put their feet. 

If anyone or anything finds you and decides to kill you, then good luck. (As previously stated, you're roughly 99.89% positive it can't be done.)

When you first arrived here and discovered the Cyberterrors, you had been running for your life when you tripped and fell, scraping your knee. Only, when you started to bleed, your "blood" was thick and black, like oil, and the wound had healed itself within moments – not even leaving behind a scar. And since then, you have been on the receiving end of many blows that were supposed to kill you – stabs to the heart, multiple severed limbs (which re-attached themselves), a shit-ton of "blood" loss, etc., etc. – but you're not dead yet, are you?

You shiver at the direction your thoughts are taking. You really don't like to think about that sort of thing. 

But does that ever stop you? Of course not. 

Thirteen years ago – just before _she_ brought you here – you had woken up with no memory. You had no idea where you were, how you had gotten there, who your family was, or if you even had one. The only things you could remember about yourself were your name and your age; which, at the time, was three. 

Then that woman came and brought you here, giving you nothing but lies and a pat on the head. And it wasn't a gentle pat either; it was more of a slap. 

You know that you're not human, but… but you think that you used to be. 

Whenever you go to sleep, you have a nightmare. The same one every time. 

In it, you're riding in the back seat of a small car. Sitting to the left of you is a girl with long, black hair, bright green eyes, and big, round glasses. She talks animatedly with the man in the driver's seat, who wears a white fedora, a white button-up shirt with matching dress pants, and a black tie. He has a pipe in his mouth, but he's not smoking anything, it's just... there. 

You're stopped at a red light, when suddenly, a car rams head-on into the beat-up red truck in front of you, flips over it, and then everything goes black, and you wake up. 

You have a feeling that the girl is your sister, and the man is your father. Although, that rides on the assumption that your dream is fact and not just some brain-created fantasy. 

Your train of thought is interrupted by a noise. Faint at first, you make out the sound of someone running through the undergrowth. Is it that time again already? Checking your internal clock/calendar/thing, you see that, apparently, it is indeed the beginning of a new sweep. And this one just so happens to begin on your birthday. Happy birthday to you. 

As the noise comes closer, you try to figure out exactly what it is. You already know that it's a person running, since it doesn't sound like an animal - the thumps are coming in sets of two, not four. Amplifying your hearing, you hear their breath coming in pants and an elevated heartbeat. You assume that they have been running for a long time, judging by the unevenness of their footsteps. You calculate that if they do not change their direction, they should arrive in the clearing in about 6.12 seconds. You also hear the sound of trees falling over behind the person. 

So, they've found the cyberterrors – and on their first day, too. Lucky them. 

You return your hearing to its normal settings and wait. 

Six seconds later, you feel the person's foot catch in the root you're leaning on. You see them fly over your head and tumble across the ground, only coming to a stop when they hit a tree. 

It's a male, about your age. He has black hair and pale skin, but his eyes are closed, so you can't see what color they are. He is upside-down from rolling across the ground; his head and neck on the ground, his back against the tree, and his legs going over his head to rest in the dirt and periodical patches of grass in front of him. It looks kind of silly, actually. 

You suppress the urge to laugh since there's a very large, black cyber-blob headed towards you at full spee-

Wait, back up a bit. 

You have the urge to... laugh?

You haven't known this guy for ten seconds, and as soon as he shows up, you feel... almost... happy?

No, scratch that. You don't even know this kid. 

Ugh. Fuck it. The cyberterror is coming; you don't have time for this. You have to make a decision. Now. 

You can either stay where you are, let the cyberterror kill this guy so you won't have to, and live with yet another regret that you will ultimately blame on the woman that brought you here...

Or you can get off your ass, fight the power (by fighting this cyberterror), save this guy's life, and go renegade. 

As the giant-black-shadow-blob-tentacle-thing slightly phases through your root in the typical way of a video game with extremely shitty graphics (not that you would know this as you have never played a video game as far as you can remember), you decide it's about time you got your revenge anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so maybe it wasnt the longest chapter anyones ever seen but fuck it i tried


	3. Kick some black tentacley blob ass.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blink-and-you'll-miss-it fight scene, some running, and introductions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey  
> you see that button up there  
> near the top of your screen  
> the one that says "subscribe"  
> well guess what  
> its magic  
> if you click it youll get emails every time this piece of festering shit updates  
> so if you like this story feel free to give it a try  
> its free there are no obligations and you can unsubscribe whenever you want  
> youre welcome for that thrilling piece of information

In one sharp, fluid motion, you push off the ground, ram into the cyberterror's back, knock it to the ground roughly five feet to the side of the kid (as all cyberterrors float about a foot in the air), and punch it with the force of a freight train. Your hand sinks into the extremely dense, dry, fog-like substance. You yank your arm back after grabbing the hidden wires at its center, ripping them out. You jump off of the thing immediately after, moving over to the guy and pulling him to stand by his shoulders. You hear the cyberterror glitch and fizzle out of existence behind you as you grab the guy's arm and begin to run. 

He stumbles a bit at first, and he shouts a heartfelt "what the hell" in gratitude of your attempt at saving his life, to which you reply with an informative, "Just shut up and run!"

"Who the fuck are you?!" He asks, ignoring your directions. 

"I am the guy currently saving your ridiculously pale butt from cyberterrors; so do as I said and shut the fuck up and run!" Alright. Water... Water... Where's the nearest body of wa-

"There's no way we're going to outrun that thing!" This guy doesn't follow instruction well, does he?

"I took care of that one. But there will be more, many more, very soon." 

"You 'took care of it'?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" 

"It means I killed it. Really, just focus on running. I will explain everything once you're safe."

"Once _I'm_ safe?!"

You sigh. You decide to just stop talking and hope this guy follows suit. 

Thankfully, he does – for the most part; although, you elect to ignore his irritated mutterings as you continue to abscond towards water. You remember that you are near a large lake, and turn in its direction. 

Far behind you, you hear at least ten cyberterrors headed in your direction. You've got roughly five minutes to get to the lake.

"Can you at least let go of my fucking arm?" The guy shouts from behind you.

"As long as you can keep up," you tell him, releasing your grip on his wrist. 

"I've practically spent my whole life running. Don't hold back for me." Contrary to his words, he seems out of breath... but for some reason, you don't doubt him. 

"Then you won't mind if I speed up a bit," you say, already doing so. 

"If our lives really do hang in the balance, go as fast as you fucking can. I'll be fine." He states while easily matching your speed. You grunt in acknowledgement, and he adds, "I really fucking hope you have some kind of a plan that doesn't just consist of blindly running for our lives?"

About fifty feet ahead of you, through a break in the trees, you see sunlight glinting off the surface of a vast stretch of water. 

The lake. 

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"How?"

"Is that really more important than living right now?"

He gives you a look you can't really decipher but drops the subject. 

You bob and weave through the last few meters of forest, and the guy follows behind you, breathing heavily. "Get in the water," you instruct, doing so yourself. 

"How is this going to help stop a giant floating ball of death?" 

"They can't get wet, and they can't sense anything in the water. Now, _get down_."

He crouches in the water, looking at you, suspicion evident on his features. 

Not thirty seconds later, a dozen cyberterrors crash through the trees, knocking some over and breaking thick branches and trunks as though they were twigs. The guy's eyes widen and he crouches further before you can tell him to do just that. He has some common sense, at least. 

The cyberterrors hesitate when they reach the beach, confused by your "disappearance". Just as they slow, they speed back up, zipping over the water and your heads. When they are halfway across the lake, the guy you saved opens his mouth to say something, but you quickly put a hand over it, lifting a finger to your lips an shaking your head. His chest moves as though he huffs, but the barely registrable volume of his breathing remains mostly unchanged. Then ~~his teeth graze your palm~~ he bites at your hand, and you jerk it back without disturbing the water around you too much, giving him an incredulous look that says 'what the fuck, man'. He simply glares in return. 

Once the hoard of immanent death has disappeared into the tree line at the other side of the lake, you sigh in relief and start out of the water. After quickly making your way back to dry land (there weren't any aquatic cyberterrors in this lake last time you were here, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything), you turn to him and stick out your hand. "John."

He blinks, probably surprised by the gesture, before taking your proffered appendage and shaking it hastily. "Karkat."

Your lips quirk upwards at the corners a bit, and though it's not much, it's the closest you've come to an honest-to-god smile in a long time. He returns the expression almost identically. Is it weird that knowing there has to be a reason for him to smile like that - strained and not really meeting his eyes - kind of actually hurts you? Like, not physically, obviously, but you feel this vague sinking feeling in your chest at the thought. 

The sounds of nature break through your thoughts and ground you back in reality. Right. You need to find shelter. 

You turn away and start walking. "Follow me."

"Wait, what? What happened to telling me exactly what the titgroping shitlick is going on here? I haven't forgotten about that, by the way, and I wasn't planning on letting you forget, either." He follows you, contrary to his protests. 

"We need to find a safer place to talk. We're sitting ducks out here, and explaining all this bullshit is going to take a while." You trudge back into the forest, headed towards a small cave not far from where you are. "I can tell you some stuff on the way, but the bigger things will have to wait until you can sit the fuck down and properly take it all in."

He sighs. "Alright, fine. How about telling me how the fuck you know all this shit."

You shake your head. "That's one of the things I'll need to explain when you're sitting down. Try asking stuff about how this place works."

He groans, "What the fuck." More of a statement than a question. "Alright, whatever. What the hell were those things, then?"

"I call them cyberterrors."

" _You_ call them that? ... You know what? That probably ties in with the whole 'how the fuck you know all this shit' deal, doesn't it?"

"You catch on fast," you say with a hint of sarcasm. You can practically feel him scowling at the back of your neck. You bite your lip to hide a smirk and what the _fuck._ How is he doing that. 

"Fine. So, are there any other things I should be worried about my life around? Like, is there anything else that could, and would, easily kill me?"

 _Me,_ you just barely manage to stop yourself from saying. "Well, there are aquatic versions of those things, but they're huge, so they can only stay in larger bodies of water. There's also plenty of dangerous creatures in the water, so it's best to stay away from deeper water as much as possible. The cyberterrors are the worst you'll have to deal with on land, but there are still bears and mountain lions and other animals. The animals, you should be able to deal with; the cyberterrors, not so much."

He listens silently as you explain, only speaking up when you finish. "What? Didn't you kill one of them back there or something, though?"

"Yeah." You don't elaborate. 

He growls in frustration. 

Luckily for him, you've reached the cave. You duck inside and sit, motioning beside you in a gesture that says he should do the same. 

As soon as his ass touches ground, the words spill from his mouth. "Now, tell me how the ever-loving hell you know all this."

Straight forward. You are not surprised in the least. 

You decide to return the favor. "Because I've been here for thirteen years."

His eyes widen a bit, but then narrow in suspicion. "Not possible. They said that the longest a human has ever been in here is a year."

"Well, they didn't lie." You take your pocketknife out of the pouch that is built into your suit on the hip. 

"What." 

"I figure we should go ahead and get this out of the way." You unfold the knife and grip it in your right hand. 

"What the hell are you-"

You slice open your wrist.


	4. Prepare to form alliances.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cannot write a long chapter.   
> I apologize. 
> 
>  
> 
> In other news, Karkat doesn't give a fuck. John is bewildered and slightly awed.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" You are currently flipping your shit because the guy that just saved your scrawny ass sliced his wrist like it was a prize Thanksgiving turkey. Your rant extends beyond those three words, which is to be expected, as after all, you are Karkat motherfucking Vantas. 

The guy just sighs like he knew something like this would happen; like he's just so fucking tired of all this shit; like he's- oh, wait; he's saying something. "Calm down, dude. Just shut up for a minute." Oh, yeah. You might be able to do that. 

"Why the hell did you do that?!" You honestly did try. 

Another sigh. "Just look."

You do. 

"But." Didn't he cut his wrist? You saw him do it; of course he did. But where the fuck did the cut _go?_ What is that black stuff running down his arm? Is it pixilating away!? What the fuck is going on?

There is silence for a few moments as he lets the information sink in. 

"I'm not exactly human." He finally breaks when you don't respond. 

"Oh." And that is all you have to say on the matter. 

"... Just 'oh'? You're not going to flip your shit or run away screaming or anything?" He looks confused. 

"Well, you did just save my ass, and you don't seem like you're going to hurt me or anything," you point out, then add, "Are you?"

He blinks, wide eyed and stunned for a moment. "... I. Uh. No. No! Of course not. That would be kind of weird, if I was. Pretty pointless, too. I'd have to be some kind of psycho to do that. Which I'm not!" 

"I get it, geez. Calm your evolutionarily-pointless male chest protrusions."

"My- what?" His eyebrows furrow. 

You sigh. "Your tits. Calm your tits."

"Oh... Oh!" John bites his lip. Unsuccessfully attempts to stifle his giggles. Then stops abruptly and looks confused. 

... O _kay_. That's... a little odd. "What's the matter? Forget how to laugh halfway through? It's really easy. See? You just hold up one finger, direct it toward me - that's called _pointing_ \- and then say 'ha' repeatedly. Simple," you sarcastically instruct. 

He glances up at you, brows still drawn together. Shakes his head. "No. No, it's not that. It's just... I haven't _felt_ like laughing in a long time."

Oh.

Well. 

How are you supposed to react to this?

"Well, enough of that bullshit. What can you do?" 

He blinks at you. "What?" 

"You said you're 'not exactly human', right?" He nods. "So, shouldn't you have some kind of special abilities or some shit?" 

"Oh! Yeah," he rubs the back of his neck. "Well... beside the whole healing thing... Uh. I'm really strong?"

"How strong, exactly?" 

"Um..." He looks around. Grabs a rock. Tosses it to you. "You can't break that, right?"

You catch it. Give it a good once-over. Squeeze it for good measure. "Of course not. It's a fucking piece of granite."

"Well," he holds out his hand. You toss the rock back to him. He catches it. Squeezes. You hear cracking. "I can." He reopens his hand to reveal rubble. 

"Damn." That's all you really have to say on the matter. 

"That's really not the most I can do, but I think it gets the point across." He shrugs. 

"Remind me not to let you hug me."

He chuckles softly. 

"So anything else? Or are you just obscenely strong and can heal yourself?"

"I don't really have to sleep or eat. And..." He hesitates. 

"And...?" You prompt. 

He grimaces. "I don't like to use it much, for personal reasons, but... I can kind of control the wind?" 

"What are you - some kind of bargain brand super hero?" Slips out of your mouth. _Shit_.

He doesn't get offended. "Heh, pretty much." He gives you a small, lopsided grin. Then gets that confused look again. 

Might as well go with it, if it cheers him up. "You need a logo. A name. How about Beaver-Boy?" 

He laughs. 

"No? Windy Butt? Sir Gaseous? Mr. Fart? Heir of the Passed Winds? Just Heir? C'mon, dude, you've gotta work with me here."

You have reduced him to a puddle of laughing nerd. He clutches his sides, braying loudly and unabashedly. You allow yourself a chuckle or two as well. 

"Oh my god," he wheezes. "Dude. Hahahaha, dude, stop. I c-haha, I can't take it. Mercy! Mercy."

"I suppose a mysterious angle could work as well. I can see the headlines now: 'UNIDENTIFIED DWEEB SAVES CITY'. Yes, good. I like it." You nod in mock approval. 

"Qu- hahahahha, quit it! You're killing me!" Moisture gathers at the corners of his eyes as he writhes on the cavern floor, clutching his sides. 

"Alright, fine," you give in, grinning a little yourself. 

He eventually calms down, sitting up and breathing heavily. He sports a lopsided grin; it is small, but it's there. "Bro, you're hilarious."

"I appreciate your appreciation."

He rolls his eyes. Eyes that you notice are a damn near unnatural shade of the most vivid blue you think you have ever seen. He glances toward the mouth of the cave. "It's getting dark. Do you want to rest some? I'll keep watch for you."

You look out as well. It _is_ actually getting kind of dark... "Yeah, alright." You really shouldn't. You barely even know him. You're practically strangers. And they told you that everything sentient would be out to get you. (Not that you give half a rat's ass or believe what "they" had to say)

On the other hand, you are actually pretty tired. Hours filled with running for your life tend to do that. Plus, for some reason, you feel safe around John. You have no idea why; as previously stated, _you don't really know the guy._ Maybe it has something to do with him saving your life? Yeah, that's probably it. He knows the ins and outs of this place, and you don't. He's already proven himself capable of impossible feats, he's already displayed his extensive knowledge of this place, and he's already saved your pasty ass. That and sleep. Sleep is a siren of unparalleled skill at the moment, and she is calling your name with all her might and flaunting her Lingerie. Not even you can resist such an allure. 

You lay down, curling into the fetal position on your side like the tool you are, and close your eyes. 

But before you go to sleep, "Hey, John."

"Yes, Karkat?" He looks to you, away from the entrance of the cave, blue eyes gazing into your crimson ones. 

"Thanks." You breathe before your eyes slip shut. You fall asleep not a second later, drifting into a deep slumber that you never would have thought you would be able to accomplish (especially not in this situation, like seriously, _damn_ ). 

You're not quite sure how you feel about much of anything, but you've survived so far, and that's really all that matters. 

**== > John: Contemplate.**

You blink. He... thanked you? He thanked you. And he's fine with you not being human. And he's trusting you to protect him while he sleeps. And he made you smile and laugh for the first time in, like, six or seven years. 

This can't be real. 

Oh, he's asleep. 

His breathing is even, and his chest softly rises and falls with each breath. His face is slack and peaceful. Dapples of pale, late afternoon light play across his features, highlighting his high cheekbones, button nose and the natural pout of his lips. He looks almost like a doll, skin pale and smooth, like porcelain. The tight black and gray fabric of his suit displays his lithe body and lean muscle. He's actually quite attractive. You are not entirely sure what to do with this information. 

The cave darkens bit by bit as the sun makes its descent. Vines veil the entrance to your and Karkat's hiding spot, concealing you from prying eyes (and dark, floating balls of death). Crickets chirp loudly and create a dull roaring background noise. A breeze starts up, adding to the natural soundtrack. (Or at least as close to natural as this place can get.)

It has been quite a while since you noticed details like these enough to appreciate them. 

You have a feeling that nothing is ever going to be the same again. All you can do is hope that this is a good thing.


End file.
